Unto Perfection Came Chaos
by Ingram
Summary: Its 2008; all is going well for the Manhattan clan, but someone is coming who will shatter their new found happiness... Gargs vs TDK Joker
1. Escapes

Private Journal Entry of Detective Elisa Maza, September 29, 2008

Private Journal Entry of Detective Elisa Maza, September 29, 2008.

_I look back on my life for the last decade, and I can hardly believe a thing._

_Magic, Monsters, Terrorists, Secret Societies, Space Aliens-my life had become more like an X-Files episode than the story of a real, flesh and blood woman…but for all of the bad, there has been friendship, family, love, in ways I could never have imagined…and in ways I had never dreamed of. Now, after many years of struggle, things are calm. I can spend my life with my love, with my new family, my clan…and even with my children._

Gotham City, Arkham AsylumSeptember 29, 2008

Deep in the bowels of this dilapidated building, behind a trio of steel barred doors and mesh cages, there is a dimly illuminated hallway lined with heavy steel cage doors; each one housing the worse criminal psychopaths that the most dangerous city in the United States can produce; serial murderers, child killers, sexual predators, lunatics, and in the last cell in the hall, a man who has so far defied any attempt to categorize him. A killer many times over, a man who brought the massive city to its knees in under a month, using nothing but _"a few gallons of gas and a couple of bullets"_. His real name is not known; he has no family, no friends, and no life outside of this institution, at least as far as the institutions administrators are concerned.

Private Journal of Elisa Maza,

_The past few years have been quiet; the Quarrymen are gone, Demona has affected something of a reformation, as has Xanatos. The past few years have brought joys beyond number, as well. They brought Angela and Broadway together, and brought Lexington a kind a caring mate from England and they sent Brooklyn through god knows what, only to return him with Sata and the children, his dance through time at an end._

_And they brought me and Goliath a miracle, several, as a matter of fact. Little Michelle and Helo, born two years apart, they have brought nothing but joy and happiness with them. Even better, the people of this city, of the world, have accepted the fact that there are other sentient beings on this planet, and the scattered remnants of the gargoyle race have begun to emerge all across the globe, and despite the best efforts of bigots and religious fanatics, they have been welcomed. _

Arkham Asylum, Gotham City

The inmate, on the other hand, has had thoughts along a different line than his jailors,

and has slowly been accumulating items too help him in his escape; it hadn't been easy, but on his last trip to the room where he's been under study by a panel of psychiatrists he'd managed to incite some of the other inmates to start a violent brawl near the infirmary. His efforts had earned him a dose from one of the guards' stun guns, but he'd managed to fall through the door to the infirmary and spread the chaos to the patients there. As the brawl unfolded, he's grabbed a piece of broken glass and tucked it into his shirt while the guards were distracted. They'd tossed him back in his cell after a sufficiently lengthy beating, through which he'd managed both to not laugh and protect the large shard of glass.

And now it was time to reap all he had sown.

Private Journal of Elisa Maza

_And today, I wonder; what price will there be to pay for this happiness? What pound of flesh is waiting to be cut away? I know I shouldn't think that way, that the world is so evil and uncaring, but…I can't help it. Deep down inside I know this golden age of peace can't last forever, and I just hope, that when the time comes, the price is not so high as to be unbearable…and that it's agent has some mercy in it's heart._

Arkham Asylum, Gotham City

A white uniformed orderly walked down the line of cells, a bored expression on his face as he checked the occupant of each cell to make sure that the occupants were still ticking. It was hard to tell most of the time; most of the inmates in the maximum security wing had been drugged insensate, strapped into straight jackets, or both. Routine was shattered however, when the orderly got to the last cell.

Blood was everywhere; on the walls, on the bed…and in spreading pools around the inmates wrists and dripping from the jagged piece of glass gripped in his right hand.

The orderly slammed the cell small viewing port closed and staggered back.

"H-h-help!" he shouted, getting the attention of the other orderly and the uniformed and armed security guard at the end of the hallway, "He's killed himself! The friggin' psycho's killed himself!" The two men at the security control room looked at each other, than slammed down on an alarm button that set off an alert in the infirmary,

"What now?" the orderly in the control room asked his compatriot .

The guard looked unsure, than he barked,

"Open up his cage."  
"But the Admin said…"

"Open up the cage!" the guard shouted, which sent the panicked orderly scrambling to open the last cell in the block.

The panicked orderly by the cell jumped back when the heavy steel door swung open,

"Hey! What are you guys doin' in there?" he demanded; just before a pale, bloody arm shot out from the cell and wrapped around his throat.

"Check his pulse Vic!" the uniformed guard ordered over a PA system that projected into the long hallway, when he looked up from his argument to find that the other orderly was gone, assuming he'd gone into the cell.

"We shouldn't be doin' this man." the orderly muttered.

The guard rounded on him, demanding to know if he wanted to be responsible for losing the Asylum shrinks' new favorite pet.

Back down the hall, the inmate peeled the drained bag of whole blood he'd stolen from the infirmary from under the loose fitting orange jumpsuit he wore and tossed it aside, before quickly yanking the white shirt off the orderly who was now sprawled on the floor of the cell.

Back at the control booth the two men were in an argument about who was going to be too blame for their charges death. When there was a frantic knocking on the cell block door, the white uniformed orderly quickly glanced over, saw only the white uniform of his fellow orderly, and hit the "Open Hallway" button.

Private Journal of Elisa Maza

_Good lord, I'm being so negative! This is my first journal entry, for crying out loud, no need to go into the brooding soul searching right now, right?_

_I need to focus on the good things right now; and cherish them as long as they last._

_I think that's enough for today._


	2. Destination

Authors note- hey guys and galls, just a quick FYI, these fics are going to be a bit tedious until I get Joker to Manhattan, and will mainly consist of the Jokers POV and a short diary entry from Elisa (I think it'll only last for one or two more chapters this way). But I promise more garg-centirc storylines and action once Joker meets the clan. Until then, don't take things too serious, right?

Gotham City, the Narrows

A pale, thin man with stringy blond hair and a torn white orderlies uniform dashes through the crumbling alleys and abandoned buildings of the decrepit Narrows district, stopping every once in awhile to listen, like a wild animal prowling the jungle.

***

Running, running, running, running…

Can I stop running?

I hear sirens, way to many sirens, it hurts my ears! Gahhh…is it any wonder I like to kill those cops? I honestly wouldn't mind them so much if they were a little quieter!

_But they still like to ruin your fun…_

You shut up!

I don't want to listen to you now, we have to run some more!

_But I'm tired!_

You be quiet! No whining now, we have to run.

Run, run, run, I feel like the Roadrunner. I miss cartoons.

_Me too._

_Do you two have to be so childish?_

Both of you be quiet! I think we can rest now.

_Wonderful. Now what?_

What gives you the idea that I would know?

_You are the one with the most control._

_Just like daddy!_

I told you too _never _call me that! If you do it again I'll start taking the pills again and make you be quiet!

***

The man stops running and his wild eyes begin wandering back and forth across the alley he's halted in, his gaze coming to rest on a homeless man sleeping under a pile of newspapers; the papers and the ragged army surplus coat he was wearing were his only protection from the cold autumn breeze that was blowing in from Lake Superior and whipping through the steel and concrete chasms of the city.

The man stares for awhile, then looks down at the jagged, blood stained piece of glass in his hand.

***

I need new clothes; they'll be looking for me in this orderly uniform. And plain white is such a _boring_ color for clothes anyway.

_So olive drab is an improvement then?_

No, but at least it'll be different.

***

The man moves quickly, leaping forward and locking his free hand around the hobo's throat in an iron grip. The transient's eyes fly open, and he see's his attackers horribly scarred visage light up with glee, hearing his piercing cackle just before the sharp pain in the side of his neck and everything goes dark. The killer leaves the jagged piece of glass in his victim's throat as he rolls the man over and yanks the old army jacket off of him, along with a dirty blue hooded sweatshirt that the hobo had worn under it.

***

Hmmm…lets see what's in the pockets; lint…syringes! Eww! I hate needles! Lets just toss these in a dumpster…there we go. Now what else…twenty dollars and some change.

_Wow, that's a lot of money!_

_For what? A seven year old? We need _a lot_ more than that if we're gonna have any real fun; fun things get more expensive every day._

But it's still more than we had before, isn't it? Now shut up!

Ok in this pocket we have some packets of…heroin? Tasty. And what else… oooo a knife! I just _looovvveee _knives! It's nice and sharp, too!

_It's a well sharpened filet knife is all._

_Oh boy…it's _him.

_He scares me!_

_You two, shut it. It looks clean enough, no rust. The balance will be off, bit heavy on the hilt, so don't get too artsy with it, just straight in for the kill, and remember short, sharp slashes, and do try and avoid stabbing anyone with it; more than likely it'll just break._

I like this guy; of all the people in my head he always has the most useful things to say. I just wish I knew where it was he came from.

Now what to do, what to do…I want to play with the Batman some more; he can be so much _fun!_

_Not gonna happen._

What?

_Look down and to the left genius._

I look down, read the headline on one of the newspapers and scream in frustration.

"BATMAN NOW ON THE RUN FOR A MONTH, STILL NO SIGHTINGS: POLICE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR MURDEROUS VIGILANTE!"

No, no, no, no NO! That's not fair!

_Maybe you should read the story and find out what's going on?_

It doesn't matter! Even if they only think he's gone and killed someone, the fun is still ruined! The humor is dead, dead and gone! Now he's just like everyone else!

_Calm down. We need to get out of this city._

What? I like it here! It's fun and dirty and the people are always waiting for my next joke!

_I know. But we just need to get out of here, unless you want to go back to the Asylum in a hurry_.

_Besides, if we go someplace else, we get a whole new audience and then we can have some real fun!_

Ok, ok fine, we need to go someplace new…new place, new place…new city…

NEW YORK CITY! I've always wanted to go…

Off to New York City then!

I bet the food's good too…I'm hungry! I feel like Chinese, Moo Goo Gai Pan! I eat, and then I go have some fun…now where's a Chinese place? Let's try this way, and see what we can find.

Private Journal of Detective Elisa Maza September 20th, 2008;

_Well today was wonderful. _

_Ever since I got promoted to lieutenant, things have been going down hill in hurry with Tony Dracon and his idiots. Apparently with me off of the street, he can do whatever he wants, including expanding off of Manhattan into New Jersey and the Bronx. And it would seem that the Mafia crews in Jersey and the Latin Kings in the Bronx object to this idea, and voice their opinions of Tony's expansion plans with gunfire. So far they've been sending Dracon's crew packing back to Manhattan with their tails between their legs, but it's only a matter of time before some innocent bystander gets caught in the crossfire. And as usual Dracon's sticking to the shadows, letting his thugs do the dying and dirty work._

_God sometimes I just want to track that slimy weasel down and…_

_Oh the hell with it. _

_He's going to slip up soon, especially now that his gang's overextended itself, and makes a mistake, and then we'll get him once and for all._

_That's enough diary writing for tonight, I think._

_Ok I lied. I just switched on the TV and the lead story on the news was…_

_The Joker's escaped in Gotham City. I thought being a cop in THIS city was a tough job, but Gotham…even when their aren't psychopaths in clown make-up blowing up squad cars with a rocket launcher, the whole city is almost a warzone, and I hear rumors that almost every cop out there is on the take. But the Joker…reading about him and watching what he did to that city this summer really makes me appreciate people like Thailog and Demona. Seriously. Well maybe not Thailog (still not sure where the hell that evil bastard's got to anyway. I hope he turns up later rather than sooner though. If at all). But at the end of the day, whoever we end up fighting, they're just criminals, out for a profit, out for some thing _material_. But The Clown I just don't get. _

_On the lighter side, Angela and Broadway just got back from dinner with Demona. While I've long since stopped wondering if they were going to come back alive from these little trips it's still a bit of relief when they make it back in one piece…_

_I can't stop thinking about the Joker. He killed four guards to escape the Asylum they had him locked up in, and now god knows where he's headed…I'm sure he won't come here though, New York's almost on the other side of the country!_

_I'm going to go check on the kids._


	3. Traffic

I don't own the Joker, and I don't own Gargoyles. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, I'd be swimming in my money-filled swimming pool.

Olympic sized, mind you.

_**Private Journal of Lieutenant Elisa Maza, New York City Police Department**_

_**September 23**__**rd**__**, 2008**_

_Well things just keep getting better out there…for one thing one Arianna found out one of her friends' boyfriend's broke up with her. Which would have been fine, if the little jerk hadn't decided to post some very…compromising…pictures he'd took of her while she slept on the internet (don't you just love high schoolers?). Arianna found out about it this afternoon and decided to drag the kid out of house before dangling him off of the Statue of Liberty by one leg._

_I guess it's nice to see that the gargoyle instinct to protect is running strong._

_By the way, the kids in the hospital under observation after suffering a nervous breakdown; his parents were very interested in pressing charges, until one of the officers taking their report mentioned just how serious cyber harassment laws are getting these days. To top that mess off Angela spent all dinner glaring at Broadway, who stared at the wall the whole time. Neither one of them would say what was wrong, of course. But I get the feeling that it might have something to do with Demona. They were a bit reserved the other night after they got back from her house, and whatever was wrong then seems to have festered. I'll try and help them sort that out tomorrow night, but it's probably something they'll need to work through on their own. Oh, and half of Tony Dracon's gang has been wiped out. As in dead. As in shot in broad daylight all over the city, many times with automatic weapons, others with handguns, and a few-and this is the really scary part-picked off with precision rifle shots from rooftops as far as three blocks away._

_It would seem that the three way gang war now has a new player; the Russian Mafia out of Brooklyn(the borough, not the gargoyle). I don't know if Tony tried to take over some of their turf or if they're just taking advantage of the situation. _

_The guys on the organized crime unit are being pretty tight lipped about the whole thing, but they did tell me that Glasses was definitely dead (it seems someone emptied a 9mm into his head at point blank range) and that Dracon was holed up in his hotel with all the hired guns he could buy, while the Russians snap up his rackets at gun point. It seems odd to me. Normally the Russian syndicates are content with extorting the immigrants in Brighton Beach and smuggling drugs; a heavy power play like this is out of character._

_Like I said, it doesn't feel right._

_Anyway, whoever is behind this, I think they could do with a visit from the Clan. Sooner rather than later, before anyone gets got in the crossfire. Let's hope this isn't a sign of things to come…_

_And last but not least, in the nationwide bad news department, groups of thugs dressed in clown masks have been causing havoc all over the country since the Joker broke out of that asylum. Looks to me like they're trying to throw off the manhunt for their boss by forcing the feds to look in as many places as possible…and succeeding wildly. I talked to a friend of mine in the U.S Marshalls, and he said the entire agency was going nuts and starting to crack at the seams, while Gotham is just leaving off turning into an armed camp. _

…

_There we go with the bad news again. _

_On the brighter side, and it is much brighter, Beth just started her first independent dig in Arizona at one of the old pueblo's in the mountains (about time too, I never thought she'd get off her butt and start pressuring the university to give her full accreditation). Oh, and Lexington called Goliath and asked if it would be okay if they stayed another week in England. It was kind of strange, really, I'd expect them to come rushing back with all that's going on, but oh well. Goliath decided that the clan was strong enough to handle the trouble with the mob. I tend to agree with him on that. Seriously, after facing off with Oberon, the Pack and the Loch Ness Monster, how can a gang war compare?_

_**Somewhere in western New York state, September 23**__**rd**__**, 2008**_

A large red sedan with heavily tinted windows sped down a dark, empty rural highway far from heavily traveled and, as a rule, more heavily policed, interstate system. But as with all rules, there were exceptions to it, and the night suddenly erupted in a riot of blue and red light as a police cruiser emerged from its hiding spot on a turn off and rushed to catch the speeding red car. The car kept going for a moments, even as the cruiser closed in unerringly on its bumper, and then turned off unto the side of the road.

The drivers side door of the cruiser swung open, and a New York state trooper stepped out. The trooper paused to adjust his broad campaign hat on his head, and then he walked purposefully towards the red car pulling out his flashlight and flicking training it on the cars' windows as he did so. As he got closer, he swore he could hear muffled laughter form inside. Tightening his already grim expression even more, the trooper approached the driver's side window. He huffed in annoyance when he found it still rolled up, and used the flashlight to rap loudly on the tinted glass.

There was a momentary pause and the then the glass began to slowly roll down.

The trooper ensured that his light was shining directly into the drivers face when he came into view.

The driver was a man in his late twenties or early thirties, with long blond hair, wearing a business suit that didn't quite fit him. His most striking feature, however, were the jagged, pale scars that stretched from both sides of his mouth. The trooper was shocked into silence by the ghastly visage, and it was the driver who broke the silence;

"Is there a, uh…_problem_ officer?"

The trooper rolled his eyes _this one thinks he's a joker, huh?_ He thought

"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"

"Umm, let me think…ninety miles an hour?"

The trooper blinked.

"That's right sir. Do you know what the speed limit is on this highway?"

"Sixty-five."

The trooper shook his head in annoyance.

"Let me see your license and registration." he curtly ordered.

The man smiled, making the jagged scars looked even more horrific. The trooper suddenly had a feeling of déjà vue as if he had seen that smile someplace before, but he shook the feeling off, not wanting to be distracted from the jerk driver he was about to ticket.

"License and registration." the trooper barked again.

The smile got wider,

"I…don't have any." the driver licked his lips, "Licenses _or_ Registra-tions."

"Are you trying to fuck with me pal?" the trooper demanded.

The man in the car let out a screeching laugh before flick his tongue across the scars in either side of his mouth, "Sorry officer, but I just don't sw-_ing_ that way." The man waggled his eyebrows, "But I am flattered."

"All right, get the fuck out of the car, smart ass."

"You know, they say cursing is a sign of low intelligence."

"Get. Out. Of. The. Car."

"Oh okay, if you insist."

The trooper stood back to let the driver open his door.

And then the driver flung his door open, slamming the metal into the troopers legs, hitting them with a sickening crunch of steel on bone. The trooper screamed, before falling to the ground and reaching for his sidearm. But driver, fast as a pouncing tiger, swung himself up and over the door and unto the troopers body armored chest, knocking the troopers wind out. As the cop lay gasping for air, the driver let out a ragged, cackling laugh at his struggles.

The fallen policeman's eyes widened even further as he realized who the driver was.

The Joker grinned like a fiend as he reached into the hip pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a wicked looking folding knife.

He flipped the blade out and laughed.

The trooper managed to take in lungful of air and pull his pistol at the same moment.

The Joker slammed his foot down on the trooper's wrist, breaking his grip on the pistol, and his wrist, bringing forth another scream. Joker laughed even louder, and fell down to pin the trooper with his knees while placing the knife to the trooper's throat.

"Please…please…" the trooper gasped,

"Please…please..._what_?" the Joker demanded, giggling wildly.

"Please…don't kill me…"

The Jokers gleeful expression took on a mocking expression and he narrowed his eyes as if in contemplation.

"Ummm…hmmm…_wellllll_…"'

His face broke into a grin.

"No."

The joker rammed the blade into the policeman's neck and swiftly withdrew it, bringing forth a spurt of blood that sprayed across the gritty blacktop.

The scarred madman held the struggling trooper down as his blood drained from his body, admiring the color of the pooling liquid in the glow of the sedans halogen headlights and the flash of the police cars roof lights.

After a few moments, the trooper's eyes closed for the last time, and the joker moved to crouch by his side. He dug into the dead mans pistol belt, taking the cops baton, tazer and pepper spray. He scooped up the troopers 9mm handgun before casually tossing his new arsenal on the passenger seat of his car. The Joker then dragged the lifeless trooper's body to ditch that ran along the side of the road and rolled him in. He Looked back at the flashing lights of the police car, eyeing them speculatively before heading back to it, looking both ways on the highway to check for cars. He opened the driver's side door of the cruiser and yanked the recording device off of the dashboard. He tossed it unto the highway and giggled slightly when it shattered to bits and then swaggered back to his car.

He thought about signing the crime scene somehow; he couldn't drop one of his cards because he'd left them all back in Gotham city with his normal clothes and weaponry, having paused only briefly on the way out of town to carjack and murder the owner of the sedan and swing by one of his stashes to issue orders to his clowns and grab a duffel bag stuffed with some of the cash he'd taken from the mob. Besides he _was_ trying to maintain a low profile…at least for awhile. Which meant he couldn't have as much fun as he normally did.

The Joker let out a martyred sighs ad climbed back into his stolen car.

The sedan sped off down the highway, passing a green highway sign that read NEW YORK CITY-100 MILES.


	4. Hiii

I don't own The Joker or Gargoyles. Anyone who'll tell you different is a liar.

_Manhattan Island, September 24__th _

A crimson colored Mercedes sedan weaved its way down a dark street, sideswiping rows of parked cars before speeding through an intersection, hopping a curb, plowing over a fire hydrant and barreling into a wrought iron fence and a decorative brick wall.

A few minutes later, as lights began to flick on in the townhouses that lined the street, the drivers side door was kicked open, and a man dressed in suit that seemed to be a few sizes to big for fell out unto the sidewalk. He laughed hysterically as he stood up and surveyed the damage he'd caused.

"Welcome to New York City." he said in a mocking voice, He reached back into the car, past the slashed remnant of the drivers side airbag and pulled a dark blue duffel bag off the passenger seat. As he slung the bag over his shoulder, a loud voice boomed from the other side of the wall he'd just plowed through.

"What the hell happened?"

A middle aged man in expensive looking pajama's ran out from the other side of the smashed car,

"You better be covered for that, pal!" he shouted, as he tried to poke The Jokers chest with a pudgy finger. The Joker grabbed the mans finger, broke it, and kneed him in the groin. The fat man fell to the ground, and the Joker landed a kick to his forehead.

"You take things way to seriously." the maniac taunted, before laughing again and walking away, "I've only been in this town five minutes and they're already rolling out the welcome mat!" the clown prince of crime shouts, winking at an attractive brunette in a night gown. The woman flinched at his scarred face, and he laughed harder.

_I can already tell I'm gonna love this town._

His gleeful thoughts are interrupted by a sudden *whoosh* of air above his head. The Joker whirled and found two winged creatures alighting on the pavement behind him.

"And here I thought Gotham had problems with large flying vermin."

One of the creatures turned to glare at him, and the Joker flashed his best yellow toothed grin and laughed.

_Now what are those things called…I read about them not too long ago…ah, yes, _gargoyles._ They look like so much FUN! I wonder firmly attached to their bodies those wings are. Ah well, only one way to find out._

The Joker spun on his heel and happily skipped back to the crowd of people who had gathered around the two gargoyles and the crashed car.

"…and then he kicked me and walked off." the fat guy was complaining.

"Who?" one of the gargoyles asked,

"Him!" someone shouted, pointing at the Joker.

The Joker smiled widely, ignoring the crowd of humans as he swaggered up to the gargoyles. They were, he decided, the most freakish looking creatures he'd ever seen; a very endearing quality, in his opinion. Beaks, horns white hair, red skin, green skin, tails, wings, talons; they looked like something ol' Batsy would wish he could turn into. Speaking of which, he really was starting to miss his old _pal_…

"Is that true?" the green one asked,

"What, do you mean ahhh…_officer_?" the Joker asked, while smirking and ogling the gargoyles low cut, kimono-like dress.

The female growled dangerously, making the joker smile wider.

"Did you crash your vehicle and assault this man?"

"Why yes I did, sweetness." The joker answered glibly, "You gonna take me into custody?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

The red male snarled and stepped forward to stand protectively in front of the woman,

_Husband_ the Joker thinks, judging his reaction. _Honestly people are sooo easy too read._

_Well, gargoyles too, I guess. _

"Why?" the red one demands.

"I was bored." the Joker walked a slow circle around the two gargoyles, his eyes darting up and down, taking in their every bizarre feature, "At the time, the ,uh, entertainment pros-pects were a bit i_limited/i_."

"Who _are_ you?" the red one demanded, exasperated with the humans glib comebacks.

"Me? Well let's just say I'm a guy who likes to see the funny side."

"I really don't think you grasp the seriousness of your situation." the female continued, tensing into a defensive stance as she watched the Jokers bizarre behavior.

"Trust me Greeny, there's nothing I ever grasp less than the _seriousness_ of a situation. Speaking of which, you wanna hear a joke?"

"What?" Brooklyn demanded, the humans question bringing him up short. He sent a quick glance over at Sata, who reached down and set a hand on her Katana.

"I'll take that as a yes." the human said, before he quickly reached under his jacket and pulled out a taser. He snapped the weapon up and fired it at Sata, and the electric prods managed to bury themselves even in her tough gargoyle hide, sending thousands of volts of electricity coursing through her body.

The human laughed as the green skinned gargoyle fell to the ground in a spasm-ing lump. Brooklyn lunged forward at the cackling fiend, but the man produced a can of mace and emptied half of it into the red gargoyles face. Snarling in fury, Brooklyn tried to keep up his attack, but the human landed a vicious kick to his knee, sending him tumbling unto the black top. He tried to get up, but the human leapt unto his back, pinning him.

With one hand still holding the taser, the man fumbled in his jacket and pulled out a rusty filet knife. He sent on more jolt of high powered shock into Sata, the tossed the taser aside.

"So, while your girly-friend is…_otherwise disposed_, lets see if we can clliip those wings of yours, shall we?" he asked, before grabbing a hold of one Brooklyn's wings and pressing the blade of the knife to the spot where it joined his back.

Brooklyn screamed as he felt the razor sharp blade dug into his flesh,

"Oh quit whining will you?" the man demanded as he began to saw through Brooklyn's flesh.

Brooklyn tried to throw the human off his back, but a heavy blow landed on his skull; then another and another,

"Keep your hands to yourself." the human shouted, while letting loose with a maniacal laugh.

The Joker thought the whole situation was hysterical, but then again, he found just about everything to be hysterical (especially mass genocide, but that was neither here nor there). He was about to land another blow to the red freaks skull when his retractable baton was suddenly yanked forcefully from his hand.

He turned in surprise to find a large, frightening…and _purple _creature looming over him.

He started to laugh at this bizarre combination when the massive gargoyle hauled him off of the red ones back and roared at him.

"Oh my, I seem to have really upset you, huh?" the lunatic asked, grinning.

The gargoyles eyes flared a phosphorescent white and he tossed the Joker at a nearby car. The maniac slammed into the side of it, and the pain of the sudden impact brought forth another peel of laughter from his ruined mouth. Still laughing, the Joker reached back into his stolen sport coat and pulled out the pistol he'd stolen from the dead state trooper and leveled it at the massive gargoyle. He began to fire wildly as he ran down a side alley, snarling with a mixture of rage and glee as he fled from the leviathan gargoyle.

Goliath threw his massive body over Brooklyn as the wild shots landed around the three gargoyles. The gunfire ended almost as soon it started, and Goliath heard the lunatic start laughing as he ran down the alley.

Goliath leaned over and shook his second in command,

"Brooklyn? Can you hear me?" he frantically demanded.

"Uggg…that hurt." Brooklyn muttered, "That really, really hurt."

Goliath peered down at the bloody gash the human had carved into the flesh of his second in commands wing.

"It's deep, but it won't taker your wing off." Goliath rumbled, patting Brooklyn reassuringly on the back, "How's your head?" Goliath asked, seeing the spreading red stains in Brooklyn's white hair.

"Hurts…"

Sata crouched next to her mate and parted his mane of white hair; it was matted with blood, but the red gushing cuts didn't seem to be very deep.

"Luckily for you, my love, the scars are not very deep." Sata patted Brooklyn on te back, "And you are also lucky have such a thick head."

Brooklyn groaned,

"Not…funny."

The Joker halted dead in his tracks and stopped laughing.

He listened carefully, then snarled in frustration.

Unless that big lavender freak show was a heck of a lot quieter than he looked, he was pretty sure it wasn't chasing him.

"Don't they know how to play this game?" the Joker said aloud, feeling the first pangs of boredom as his adrenaline wore off.

Muttering darkly under his breath, he turned around and stalked back down the alley towards the gargoyles.

When he got back out on the street, he saw that both the gargoyles were still gathered around their wounded comrade.

The Joker glared; he _hated_ not being the center of attention. As the gargoyles tended to their wounded, he changed the magazine in his pistol.

_Gotta give 'em a little credit though_, he thought _at least they look after their own. Pretty sure ol' Batsy would rush past a burning busload of retarded orphans to get at me._

The Joker giggled at that thought; he'd have to file it away for future action.

In the meantime, he aligned the pistols sights with the back of the big gargoyles calf and squeezed off a round.

Goliath roared as he felt the bullet tearing through his leg, bringing him to his knees.

Eyes flashing with white phosphorescence, he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the shooting pain in the back of his leg. Sata drew one of her katana's and leapt between her wounded leader and husband and the armed madman.

"That's two down on your side. I'm winning!" The Joker gloated, using his free hand to make a 'come and get me' gesture, "Wanna try and even the score?" he asked, before walking off down the alley.

Behind him, Goliath surged forward to give chase but was restrained, barely, by Sata.

"You are wounded Goliath."  
"I'm well enough to bring down that fiend."

"Really? And when he starts shooting again, are you going to be fast enough to dodge?"

"And you propose what? That I stay behind while you go into harms way alone?"

"Not alone." Sata pulled her radio off her belt, "This is Sata to all patrols. Goliath and Brooklyn have been injured, badly. I'm going to pursue their attacker into the alleys north of central park. Lexington, do you have our position?"

"Copy that. We're are on our way."

Sata glowered down at Goliath and Brooklyn,

"You two, stay here. This won't take long."

Holding her sword behind her, Sata rushed into the alleyway the lunatic had run down.

Trying not to giggle too loudly, the Joker darted out of a darkened doorway as Sata hurtled down the alley in the direction he'd been running.

He hurled a trash can lid at her knees like a Frisbee before taking off again. The nimble warrior dodged the projectile and ran faster.

Laughing out loud, the Joker turned and fired off a few more rounds before jumping on top of a dumpster and scrambling unto a fire escape ladder.

Firing off another five shots as he went, he clambered up the rusty iron ladder as the gargoyle dodged into a side alley. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way unto the rooftop at the top of the fire escape.

Sata leapt unto the side of the building, digging her powerful talons into the brickwork and quickly climbing up unto the roof.

The Joker turned in surprise when he saw the sword wielding woman leap over the edge of the building and land lightly behind him.

"Hmmm…that's a uh, neat trick" he said, before snapping the pistol back up and aiming it at Sata.

Out of nowhere, something heavy slammed into the side of his head.

The blow sent the Joker sprawling across the roof before he bounced into a heating vent.

"Awwww…owww…"

he tried to pull himself to his feet; he wasn't more than halfway before he suddenly yanked upward and held dangling in the air by one leg.

"Oh my…" the Joker groaned, shaking his head to try and clear it, "There's just an _acre_ of you things, isn't there?'

Broadway glowered down at the disfigured human;

"Yeah, and to bad there's just one of you, huh scumbag?"

The Joker laughed,

"Actually, I ,uh, prefer being one-of-a-kind."

"You can be one of a kind behind bars, then."

"Oh, wow. Did you learn all of your tough guy talk from '_Law and Order'_, or just most of it?"

The Joker laughed at his own wit while Broadway fell silent. Sata, snarling in sudden fury lunged forward and placed the blade of her razor sharp Katana next to the Jokers cackling mouth.

"I have had quite enough of that to last me a life time, _gaijin_. Be silent, or be silenced."

The Joker grinned widely as he rolled his head from side to side to study the honed edge of the sword with a professional eye,

"W-ellll, isn't that a beautiful blade?" The Joker leaned forward and rand his tongue down the flat of the sword.

Sata's eyes widened in disgust and she yanked the sword away, accidentally slicing open the human's lower lip in her haste. Giggling as his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood, the Joker began to roll his head from side to side, letting the blood flow into the lifeless tracts of scar tissue on either side of his mouth.

"That's better…" he sighed, as he felt the red blood washing into his wounds, giving him a ghost of his normally bright red painted smile. He sighed again, this time in annoyance; if he'd known that things would be this fun in New York, he would have brought one of his make up kits and a better suit.

"Who i_are/i_ you?" the woman with the sword demanded again.

He looked over at her and smiled; there were still a few nagging ideas of keeping a low profile bouncing around his head but he was having so much _fun_.

"Me? I'm the _Joker_. What's your name?"


	5. Observation

_Manhattan Island, 23__rd__ Police Precinct_

Lieutenant Elisa Maza looked into one of the precincts interrogation cells through a two way mirror. Inside the room, haggard looking young man in his late twenties was staring unerringly back at her, as if he could see right through the two way mirror and into her eyes.

"It has to be…him." Matt Bluestone whispered, as if afraid the man might overhear his whisper, "Look at those scars…"

The man in the interrogation room leaned back in his chair and started to rock back and forth; the gesture might seem to indicate anxiety in some, but he gave the impression of doing it of boredom. Occasionally, one of his cheeks would bulge out as he ran his tongue along the scars that were gouged deeply into the flesh on either side of his mouth.

"It could just be coincidence, Matt." Elisa warned, "Those scars don't prove he's the Joker. Although I suppose they could help make us make an educated guess."

Matt sighed,

"What about finger prints?"

"Nope."

"DNA?"

"Nada."

"Anything? Shouldn't there be something on file from GCPD?"

"Apparently, someone's replaced the Joker's file on their system with eight gigabytes of Hentai."

The man at the table suddenly slammed his chair down and stood up,

"They're…they're sending over an officer with up close experience of the Joker to confirm it's him. They should be here tomorrow morning…" Elisa trailed off as the man walked over to glass mirror and began to breathe heavily on it,

"What's he doing?"

The man scrawled something on the glass, and then breathed on it again to make the message clear; _'Bored, come n & play'_.

Elisa bristled as the cocky criminal swaggered back to the steel table by the chair and hopped up on it before sitting cross legged and staring at the door plaintively.

"GCPD don't want any interrogations until they get here." a new voice warned from behind the two NYPD officers.

Deputy Commissioner Maria Chavez moved alongside her subordinates and peered into the room.

"Has he said anything?"

"He asked the officers who found him dangling from the fire escape if…" Elisa looked down at her note book, "'…those gargoyle things were all so much _fun_.' Since we brought him here he's been in isolation."

Maria shook her head,

"It's time to get him out of here, before someone tips off the press. There's a high risk prisoner transport with a SWAT escort waiting outside. They'll take him to Rykers Island; we'll hold him there until the GCPD get here."

"You're that sure this guy is really the Joker?" Blustone asked,

The man on the other side of the glass began to whistle tunelessly to himself and roll his head from side to side; the harsh florescent lights over his head cast dark shadows down on the crust of dried blood on the deep scars on either side of the mans mouth.

"If it isn't him it's a very good imposter."

The three officers turned to look as a heavily armed tactical team filed into the hallway; Chavez motioned to the door next to the observation window and the SWAT team set up next to the door.

"Ready?" the lead officer asked his chief.

Chavez nodded, and the SWAT team cautiously opened the door and moved into the room.

"They'll get him out of your hair in just a moment Maza." Chavez said, as she turned to leave.

As he and Elisa watched the chief go, Matt said,

"Good thing too. The last police station the joker was ended up minus a couple of floors."

Elisa shrugged and followed Chavez.

From inside the interrogation room, she heard a bizarre nasal voice;

"You know…you could at least chat me up before moving to the _rough stuff_."

Elisa froze, back stiffening as a wheezing cackle of laugh filled the hallway and the Swat team dragged the inmate out of the interrogation room.

As they passed Elisa, the captive half rolled, half turned his head to look at her; his stringy, unwashed hair hung across his face and obscured the ragged scars on either side of mouth, but his keen eyes still shone from their dark sockets.

His eyes met Elisa's, and he flashed a yellow toothed grin and winked.

In a sudden, frenzied out burst, he kicked loose of the burly Swat tem members who'd been holding his hand cuffed arms and flung himself into Elisa, pinning her to the wall.

"Oh my…" he said, just before the SWAT team tackled him to the floor.

"You all right, Lieutenant?" one of the SWAT officers asked, getting in between the floored prisoner and Elisa,

"I think so…"

The man chuckled slightly, sounding like he was trying to hold back even greater laughter.

Instinctively, Elisa checked herself for injury.

She looked down, and met the mirth filled eyes of the prisoner again.

Her eyes narrowed as she checked her pockets, and the mirth left the prisoners eyes.

The mans laughter abruptly ceased and he let loose an annoyed snarl.

His hand, cuffed behind his back clenched down.

Without saying a word, Elisa quickly bent down and pried his right hand open, then snatched a heavy ink pen out of it.

The SWAT officer growled and hauled the man to his feet.

"_This_ was a gift from my husband. I'd like to hang onto it, if you don't mind." Elisa said drily, holding the pen up to the prisoners face. The man cocked his head to one side and gazed thoughtfully at Elisa's hand.

"He the hell did he get that? Didn't you search him when he got here?" one of the SWAT officers demanded.

"I think our boy here is a damn good pick pocket, on top of…whatever the hell else he is." Matt said, coming up behind Elisa.

"Well, that's me de-tec-tive…I'm a regular renaissance man." The bound prisoner said, giggling, he locked eyes with Elisa again, "So uh, tell me, ah, Lieutenant. Were the, uh, matching wedding rings your idea, or were they hubbies?"

Elisa gapped as the prisoner leaned forward and studied the gold wedding band on her ring finger more closely.

"I'm guessing it was yours…tall, dark and, uh, laaavender seemed a bi_t_…_old school_."


End file.
